


Coffee Shop Encounters

by Yaomi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluffy Ending, M/M, Slice of Life, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaomi/pseuds/Yaomi
Summary: Snippets of Percy's encounter at the local coffee shop. Percy/Oliver. Fluffy.
Relationships: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	Coffee Shop Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to JK Rowling for creating such wonderful characters and an entire world to lose myself in.

He had once had so many dreams for himself. Whatever happened to them all? Where did they go?

And he was at a point in his life where he couldn't even really bring himself to care except that the discontent he tried to ignore would rear its ugly head at the worst of times. He wouldn't say that he was unhappy, for what did he have to be unhappy about? It was more that he was nothing really. And wasn't that a rather depressing thought?

His life was dull. Every morning he would get up, go to work, come home and work, sleep, and then start all over the next day. More often than he liked to admit, he would find himself periodically throughout the day staring at his computer screen (with its special screen to rid him of the recent onset of debilitating migraines), sighing over coffee breaks, and zoning out so completely that he would suddenly come to at home and not remember how he got there.

His days off weren't that much better. Saturdays he reserved for chores and errands, the news, and cooking for the next week. Sundays used to be the same until he had broken down from the monotony of it all. It had been Bill, the other workaholic of the family, who had pulled him to the side (ambushed him at work where he couldn't escape) and told him in a lecture that was probably dictated and meticulously memorized from their mother that he needed to go out and do something. His single-mindedness of work and routine apparently wasn't healthy for anyone.

So now he took Sundays to really let loose. He would grab a book and curl up in the chair in the back corner of the local coffee shop and lose himself (and all that time that could have been spent productively) for an entire day. Which was where he was now.

“You look so focused.”

“Gah!” Percy startled, dropping his book and jerking up to stare into the deep brown eyes of a man sitting in the chair next to his.

He heard laughter from a nearby table, and looked over to see a group of people watching him. He glared over at the man who was grinning at him. “What do you want?” he griped, grabbing his book and lamenting the lost page number.

“Honestly?” The man's grin widened. “To know what it would be like to have that focus only on me.”

Percy went bright red in anger. He opened his mouth, but his mind went blank and nothing came out, so he ground his teeth instead, swooping up and stomping towards the exit.

“Tough luck, Oliver,” he heard someone call from the table as they burst out into more raucous laughter.

Percy turned to look back as he opened the door. Oliver waved at him and he stormed out, raging blindly all the way home, his Sunday, his one day, effectively ruined. He felt like he could cry.

* * *

Percy couldn't do it. He had told himself on that last Sunday that he wouldn't ever show his face again at the coffee shop. But when Sunday rolled around again, he found himself dressed and itching to go. His fingers twitched over the pages of his book and he couldn't concentrate on the words sitting there in his own living room. He couldn't go to the other coffee shop in town. Their coffee was typically over-brewed and the atmosphere just wasn't right. So he gathered his things, locked his door, and walked the few blocks to _his_ coffee house.

A quick perusal of the room showed him that he was safe. The woman behind the counter smiled at him and exchanged a few words of conversation as she made him his usual.

When he sat down in his usual spot, curled up and ready to read, he aggravatingly found that he couldn't concentrate there either. Every time the bell above the door rang, he would look up. At no time in the course of the day did any of the melodious dings announce the presence of a man called Oliver.

He found the old discontent rising up and left early, strangely disappointed and not really knowing why.

* * *

On Monday he was distracted through work. On Tuesday he was ready to go back to the coffee shop. By Tuesday night he had talked himself out of it. Wednesday evening he was shaking out his umbrella just outside the door and smiling at the barrista as he stepped inside.

“Good evening, Penelope,” he said, the woman giving him a wide smile.

“Hey! We don't usually see you on a weekday. Needing a pick-me-up?” she asked.

He made a non-committal noise and then ordered his usual. He sat down in his chair, but pulled the small table in front of him so that he could set up his laptop. Just because he went out tonight did not mean that he was throwing all routine and practicality out the window. Today was still a work day after all.

He still looked up at every ding-a-ling, however few there were for a rainy Wednesday evening. This time he was greeted with the sight of Oliver pulling off his jacket and throwing it over his arm. Oliver grinned when he saw him, their eyes meeting across the room.

Oliver collected his drink and then made his way through the tables and chairs to take the chair next to Percy, plopping down into it with a sigh. “No book today?” he asked.

“I'm working,” Percy responded.

“Okay,” Oliver said. He didn't say anything after that, mostly sipped at his coffee and looked out the window at the rain.

An hour passed, and although Percy was distracted, he got more done than he thought he would. A rogue thought strayed through his mind and into his consciousness that it was nice, having someone there. He came to a good stopping point, shut down his laptop, and collected his things.

“What's your name,” Oliver suddenly asked.

Percy looked at him in surprise. “Percival,” he stumbled out.

“Percival?” Oliver asked, rather amused. He swore he could see Percy's feathers ruffle out indignantly. “Percival,” he said again, softer, trying it out on his tongue, musing. “Per-cy?”

Percy nearly rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can call me Percy.”

Oliver grinned. “Perce?”

“Let's quit while we're ahead.”

“Of course,” Oliver agreed easily.

“Have a good night, Oliver,” Percy said as he stood up.

“Oh, it has been, Perce,” Oliver said as Percy walked towards the exit.

Percy did roll his eyes this time, but there was a smile just touching his lips all the way home.

* * *

Percy wanted to go back to the coffee house on Thursday, but talked himself out of it. He thought about Friday, but they played live music then and he did not want to be among the crowd. He wasn't even going to attempt Saturday. So it wasn't until Sunday that he went back.

He found his coffee and his corner, pulled out his book, but he didn't have to wait long before the familiar sound of Oliver's laugh struck through his focus. He looked up.

Oliver was laughing with his friends from last time. He looked over at Percy and grinned before turning back to his friends. They laughed, one poking him in the shoulder. Oliver waved him off, collected his coffee, and then made his way back to Percy's corner. He plopped down in his chair and gave Percy another sunlight grin.

“How was the rest of your week?” he asked. Percy hesitated, looking past Oliver to his friends who were collecting their drinks and grabbing their own table by the window.

“Is it – okay -” he began.

Oliver waved his hand in the air, still grinning. “It's fine. I see them all the time.”

Percy hummed. “Do they come every Sunday?”

Oliver outright laughed this time and Percy ducked his head a little, blushing. “Percy,” he said, shaking his head, and then tilting it towards the table by the window. “We've been coming here since they opened a year ago.”

Percy really blushed this time. “I'm sorry. I never – I was -”

“Reading?” Oliver said, with raised brows. “I know. That's what caught my attention first.” He frowned. “Wait, no. That's not right.” Then he grinned again. “I noticed the red hair first.”

Percy rolled his eyes. “It's a family trait. Both my parents and all my siblings have red hair.”

Oliver perked up. “You have siblings? How many? I'm an only child. I always wished for a little brother or sister when I was growing up.”

“Six,” Percy said, smiling.

Oliver's eyes went round. “ _Six_?” He leaned back and whistled.

Percy narrowed his eyes. “Don't say it.”

“Your parents-”

“Noooo,” Percy groaned, holding his hands over his ears. “I'm stopping this conversation right now.”

“Seriously-”

“ _Stopping_.”

Oliver laughed. “Stopping,” he agreed, putting his hands up in defeat.

* * *

Percy extended his coffee house routine to include Wednesdays, where Oliver would meet him in his little corner. They didn't talk much on those days. Percy would continue to work and Oliver would sip his coffee, sometimes watching the people outside, sometimes drawing Percy into a conversation, and then one day he brought in a stack of papers and Percy had looked at him with a raised brow.

Oliver sighed and slung his bag on the ground in between their chairs having found the Red Pen he was looking so intently for. “Grading,” he grumbled.

“ _Grading_?” Percy asked. “Are you a _teacher_?”

“Is that surprising?”

“No,” Percy said quickly. And then thought for a minute. “No, actually. I can see you doing really well with kids.”

* * *

And then one Sunday, Percy's routine was thrown out of whack. You see, Bill showed up on his doorstep and had promptly bundled Percy up and whisked him out the door. Bill's excuse was their mother's birthday present shopping, but his real reason was that he hadn't heard from Percy in awhile and was concerned.

And the later it got, the more agitated Percy became. And the more agitated Percy became, going so far as to check his watch every five minutes, the more concerned Bill became. At his wits end, Bill suggested going into the coffee shop so he could sit down with Percy (who wouldn't dare make a scene in public or have the ability to lock Bill out) and give him The Speech again.

Bill became very concerned when Percy dug his heels in and refused to cross the street to the coffee shop.

“What is wrong with you?” Bill murmured, running his hand through his hair and then glaring down at his little brother.

Percy pouted. Real and out pouted. “I'm tired and I want to go home,” he griped.

“No,” Bill said. “I want to know what is going on with you. You've been in a bad mood all day. You've been checking your watch every five fucking minutes. I haven't seen you for months. Is it really so bad to have your big brother come into town for a visit?”

Percy gave a put-upon sigh and then made to move past Bill. “I'm going home.”

“Oh no you're not.” Bill grabbed him by the arm and wrestled him down onto a bench. If Percy wasn't going to go into the coffee shop with him, then he would stay out here with Percy and he could give The Speech in the fucking rain if he had to. Percy needed to hear it.

And so he started. And Percy continued to glare down at the sidewalk with a slight blush on his face. And every now and then he would glance at the coffee shop before staring down at the sidewalk again.

Only a few minutes into the speech, Percy looked towards the coffee shop again and his blush turned into a raging fire. Bill stopped and looked up sharply to see another guy walking across the street towards them with two to-go cups in his hand. He practically hopped up onto the sidewalk and held out one cup to Percy.

“Bit cold out here,” he said grinning at them. “Hope I'm not intruding.” He shook the cup at Percy, his grin moving into something softer, a genuine smile as Percy gently took the cup, not meeting his eyes. “I wasn't sure what you would like,” he said, turning to Bill and holding out a hand. “Oliver Wood. You must be big brother.” He winked at him.

Bill's brows rose as he gripped Oliver's hand in turn, while eyeing Percy and the coffee cup. “Bill Weasley.” Percy took a small sip of the coffee, and since Bill was watching him so closely, he could just make out a small smile at the corner of Percy's mouth. He looked back at Oliver and shook his hand firmly. “I'm going to go get myself a cup, if you don't mind a minute.”

Oliver shook his head and took the seat next to Percy. He smiled over at Percy and bumped his shoulder. Percy shot him a Look, but that didn't deter Oliver and suddenly Bill felt a kind of relief hit him like a train. He left them there and went across the street.

It wasn't until after they bid Oliver goodbye, found their mother's birthday present, and were back at Percy's apartment before Bill brought the subject of Oliver up.

“Why is it so bad for me to know that you've made a friend?”

“It's not bad. It's just _embarrassing_.”

“Embarrassing? Come on, talk to me, Percy.”

“I just feel like a little kid. Like you're still looking out for me. Like I need looking out for. Oh, look, Percy's made a friend. Like I don't have any friends or something and I don't want you to be proud of me for making a friend like I'm still in kindergarten or something.”

“Honestly Percy, you're kind of acting like it right now.” But Bill was grinning. And Percy slowly began to grin. And then they were laughing. Because it was ridiculous. Because no matter how old Percy got, Bill would always look out for him and be proud when Percy was happy, and Percy already knew all of that.

They ate dinner and Bill hugged his brother goodbye, with the usual admonishment to take care of himself that Percy took with the usual roll of the eyes. And, of course, his promise to be there at their mother's surprise birthday party next Saturday. At Bill's suggestion that Oliver come along with, Percy promptly pushed him the rest of the way out the door. “Not a chance,” he retorted.

“Next year then,” Bill grinned.

* * *

It was that Wednesday though that Oliver asked Percy if he wanted to come to his student's soccer match.

“I don't know if you like Soccer, and I'll be coaching so I won't be there in the stands. But we have a good time and the rest of the guys will be there,” Oliver offered while Percy was taking a break from his laptop.

Percy looked briefly taken aback and Oliver regretted for a minute asking. “I'm sorry,” Percy said. “I'll be at my parent's house for my mother's birthday.”

Oliver relaxed and smiled in reassurance, shrugging his shoulders. “There will be other games soon enough.”

But Percy wasn't reassured and before he could even think about what he was going to say, he was suddenly asking Oliver if he wanted to grab dinner tonight instead.

Oliver grinned back. “On a Wednesday? Aren't you a wild one, Perce.”

“Oh stuff it,” Percy said back, already getting up and putting his laptop in his bag. “Where do you want to go?”

* * *

Wednesday nights quickly evolved into meeting in front of the coffee shop to decide where to eat dinner and then going back after dinner to continue their months' long routine. So it took Percy by surprise when he was waiting ten minutes after their usual meet up time with no sign of Oliver and realized that he didn't even have his number.

But it was only a few minutes later that he heard his name and he saw one of Oliver's friends weave through the holiday foot traffic towards him.

“Katie, right?” Percy asked when she got to him. She grinned up at him. “Is Oliver alright?”

She waved her hand in the air in a sign of dismissal. “He's an idiot, is what he is. Injured himself trying to show off a move to his students during practice. He was worried you'd think he stood you up.” She wrapped her arm through Percy's and began leading him down the sidewalk. “He was insisting on coming himself-” Percy snorted. “I know, right? So I told him to sit his ass back down and I'd come tell you myself. Did you know he doesn't have your number?”

“I realized that myself,” Percy said softly. “Where are we going?” he asked after getting through a particularly dense crowd of people.

“Dinner,” Katie promptly said. “He hasn't eaten. You haven't eaten; don't try to tell me you already have. Oliver told me he was supposed to meet you for dinner. And I haven't eaten either. So we are going to get some food and then make fun of Oliver and his stupidity for the rest of the night.”

Percy laughed, unable to not get swept up into Katie's over-familiarity and chipper demeanor. “Come on,” he said, taking the lead from Katie. “We'll pick him up a sandwich from his favorite cafe.”

“Ooh,” Katie responded. “The one with the snickerdoodles on the corner?”

“That's the one.”

“Now we're talking. You're a man after my own heart.”

* * *

Sundays after that found Percy sitting next to Oliver at the table near the window with Oliver's friends. Katie, Angelina and Jesse worked with Oliver at the high school. Cameron was Angelina's husband, and Jesse was Cameron's coworker at the hospital. They usually were all at the coffee shop by 11am, grabbing sandwiches from the counter for lunch and speaking well into the evening.

Through the gentle ribbing of Oliver's friends over the course of several weeks, Percy learned that Oliver had noticed Percy the first time he had visited the coffee shop. And that he had tried to get his attention for months. And wasn't that just cute? And in return, Percy told them stories about his brothers and his baby sister, about his job as an editor (he couldn't understand why that fascinated them, but it did), and his absolutely dismal failure trying to make something as basic as scrambled eggs. Which led to overt hints that Oliver is a good cook and he should definitely have him cook for him some time.

It was after that particular exchange, after everyone bid each other farewell outside the coffee shop and headed in their own directions, that Percy had grinned up at Oliver and asked when he was going to be invited over for dinner.

Oliver laughed, and clasped Percy's hand, bringing it up to his lips. “Saturday?” he asked.

Percy smiled through his blush. “Saturday,” he murmured. “Are we still meeting for dinner on Wednesday, then?”

“Of course,” Oliver said, bringing Percy's hand back down, twining their fingers together, and walking down the street. They would part a few blocks up, Percy towards his apartment and Oliver towards the train station.

Percy stopped again, tugging at Oliver's hand to have him turn to face him. “You know,” he paused. Stopped. Tried again. “I'm not, um.” He sighed.

Oliver squeezed his fingers and used his other hand to lift Percy's face back up to meet his eyes. “What is it?”

Percy licked his lips in nerves and rubbed at his shoulder. “Are we dating?” he finally asked.

Oliver laughed out loud, grabbing both of Percy's hands and bringing them up to his lips again. “Percy, we have been dating for months.”

Percy leaned forward into Oliver, hiding his bright red face in Oliver's shoulder. “I'm not good at any of this,” he growled.

Oliver let go of one hand to bury his fingers in Percy's hair. “You are doing just fine. I, for one, seem to have been swept off my feet quite neatly.”

Percy snorted. But he did look up from Oliver's shirt. “So if we've been dating for months, when are you going to kiss me?”

Oliver grinned and leaned forward. Percy felt his breath hitch and his eyes widen, but it was to Percy's cheek that Oliver's lips softly grazed. “Have a good night, Percy.” He stepped away, a slight blush in his own cheeks as he turned towards the train station.

Percy watched him go and then made his own way home, his feet so light he swore he was going to jump into the sky and never come back down.

* * *

That next year, Oliver was there to celebrate Percy's mother's birthday

_End_


End file.
